


Hallelujah

by MadHattersPet



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek whump, Derek's been poisoned, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Sad Derek, Singing!Stiles, Stiles can sing, new hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadHattersPet/pseuds/MadHattersPet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is poisoned and Stiles is there to help. In which the boys bond and Stiles has feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallelujah

It was just Derek's luck that yet another set of Hunters moved into town, a set that was even more intractable than the Argents. It was also just his luck that they had a fun new kind of poison in their bullets. And that he'd be caught while arguing with Stiles, who was human and fragile, and therefore Derek had to take said new bullets right in the shoulder.  
His luck sucked. It’s about all the higher thought Derek could process as the burn of poison spread throughout his limbs.  
"Oh jeez that looks bad, I mean awful, that-- that really can't be good can it?" Stiles babbles, having assisted Derek in crawling into a half-way sheltered cave and gotten the older male's shirt off him.  
Derek growls at the boy, "Call Scott."  
"Already done, he didn't answer and reception's crap, but I texted him." Stiles takes another look at the pale, bleeding, poisoned werewolf and re-evaluates his approach, "But he's on his way, I'm sure. He'll get here in time."  
Derek closes his eyes and leans more heavily against the cave wall, "The poison's going to kill me first."  
"Okay, you suck at the whole positive outlook thing you know that? What do you know about this poison?" Stiles snaps.  
"It’s new, but from what I can smell, I'm going to hallucinate while I get a fever high enough to kill me."  
“Oh that’s just great, I mean how can I even help? For a fever you’re supposed to have liquids so you don’t dry out but there’s not much around, I mean that one stream, but there’s no way to get it to you, and you’re supposed to get cooled down. Good thing we’re in the middle of the freakin’ woods, it’s going to get plenty cold.” Stiles’ voice was definitely borderline hysterical and just ask him how much he really doesn’t care right now. “Oh shit,” the teen barely manages to catch a mostly unconscious Derek before the werewolf can hit the hard floor of the cave.  
“Oh no, you’re don’t do this. Wake up Derek, right now man.” The older man barely even responds to Stiles’ shaking him.  
“Crap, okay, you must be starting the hallucinations, and yep, you’re burning up,” Stiles can tell this because Derek’s chest is even hotter than normal. And then he starts shaking and Stiles nearly drops him because two hundred plus pounds of muscle is heavy even without the added fun of trying to balance.  
The teen lays Derek out on the floor as gently as possible, “Okay, I’m going to go to that stream and try and help get you cooled down, alright? Don’t die on me man.”  
Derek just lays there shaking, so Stiles snatches up the discarded t-shirt and dashes towards the stream, dropping to his knees at its banks and thanking whatever powers in the universe that don’t hate him that the stream’s still there.  
He takes a deep breath, trying to calm down his skittering thoughts and shaking hands, drenching the t-shirt in the cold stream water.  
That’s when he hears the muffled shouting from the cave, and Stiles is sprinting back to find Derek thrashing on the floor, mostly wolfed out, groaning and muttering.  
“Jesus Christ!” Stiles kneels beside him, “You’re fine, it’s okay,” from the few words he can make out Stiles gathers that Derek’s seeing the house burning and his sister. “You’re not there, you’re past that.”  
And now Derek’s crying, tears dripping from behind closed lids, and there are these awful deep sobs that tear at Stiles’ heart, so he doesn’t stop to think. He drapes the cool shirt over Derek’s chest and scotches forward, lifting Derek’s head onto his lap and running his fingers through thick black hair.  
“Shh baby boy, you’re okay, you’re not alone, I’m right here,” Stiles whispers, remembering how his mother used to do this for him if he was sick or scared.  
Derek whimpers, and one clawed hand comes up to grasp Stiles’ shirt, “Forgive me,” he begs brokenly, eyes flickering behind their lids.  
“You’re forgiven Derek, shh,” Stiles smoothes his hand through the werewolf’s hair, “It’s alright baby.”  
It’s helping, but not enough, Derek is still sobbing and mumbling brokenly and the fever’s still there, and Stiles has no idea what to do. If Scott doesn’t get here Derek will die, and Stiles remembers the last time he watched someone die, remembers the last thing he did for his mother.  
He takes a deep breath, “This is not going to be the last thing I do for you, got it Derek? You are going to live to keep dragging our asses out of and into the fire. You got me Derek?”  
There’s no response, not that Stiles expected one, and so he just takes another breath, and begins to sing, “I've heard there was a secret chord  
That David played, and it pleased the Lord  
But you don't really care for music, do you?  
It goes like this”  
Derek shudders once, and slowly, as Stiles continues to sing, the sobs even out. 

He’s standing outside his house, watching it burn and hearing the screams of the people within. They’re shouting and pleading, begging God or anyone to come and save them, and his little niece is screaming for him loudest, but Derek is paralyzed. On top of the sounds of pain and horror comes Kate’s laugh, cold and low and insane, mocking him for his mistake.  
He hears also, vaguely, the squeaky voice of a teenage boy scared out of his mind, begging Derek to wake up, but he can’t shake off the pain and the feel of the poison creeping through his veins. He’s too hot, burning just like everyone in the house; he can see the flames dancing on his skin.  
And then Laura is there standing next to the house screaming at him, mocking him, blaming him for every death at Beacon Hills. Derek screams back at her, but sometimes he has no voice, and he’s still pleading with her, begging for forgiveness.  
The other male voice is back, and with it, coolness that soothes out the flames and a hand in Derek’s hair. Laura and the house sort of fade out for a minute, and Derek reaches towards the comfort, only knowing that he needs forgiveness. “Forgive me,” he begs, trying to ignore Laura sneering and telling him that he’s too late for that. The voice returns with forgiveness, and then some more words that Derek cannot understand now, but will remember later, and then its singing, soft words that reach into Derek’s broken, burned soul and start to soothe.  
Derek follows that voice out of the bleak visions induced by the poison. He opens his eyes, to see Stiles looking down on him, eyes wide, but the boy puts a smile on his face for Derek.  
Derek shuts his eyes again and drifts on the wings of the song.  
“There's a blaze of light in every word  
It doesn't matter which you heard  
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah” Derek comes back to Stiles, opening eyes still blue with his wolf, and Stiles manages a smile, but even as he does Derek’s breathing starts to slow, and oh hell no Derek is not allowed to die. Stiles’ voice breaks on a Hallelujah, but he just sings louder, trying to hold Derek in the land of the living through force of will, song, and comfort.  
It’s only moments later that Stiles hears Scott’s hurried footsteps and then they’re rushing Derek to the vet’s.  
When Derek is sleeping peacefully, bullet hole closing up just like it’s supposed to; Scott turns to leave, “We should go.”  
“Yeah,” Scott agrees, but the teen’s eyes don’t leave Derek, “It’s just—I mean—Would you want to wake up alone after that?”  
“Stiles, this is Derek, he loves to be alone.”  
“Yeah, but—Yeah, you’re right.”

Stiles isn’t really surprised to come into his room after school a week later to see Derek standing just behind his door.  
“Is that your favorite part of my room?” He snarks, flopping into his desk chair.  
Derek just stares.  
“Okay, so that’s not creepy at all, but anyway, so are you all healed up?”  
“Yes.”  
Silence, then, “That’s great, so do you need something?”  
Derek looks a little uncomfortable and moves to sit on Stiles’ bed, “You sang to me.”  
Stiles turns bright red and looks away, “Oh that, it’s really nothing, I mean you didn’t exactly look like you were having candy mountain dreams, so I just tried to help, I mean it’s a bro thing right? We’re bros, and bros help each other out—“  
“I remember what you said before you started to sing.” Derek calmly cuts through the stream of protective babble.  
Stiles goes stiff, “That really is nothing,” and Derek has never heard the teen’s voice so cold and solemn.  
They sit in silence, Stiles staring at the wall and Derek staring at Stiles until the boy gives in.  
“My mom died when I was a kid and she, she used to love that song, it was her favorite. She used to always ask me to sing it. And the night she died I was visiting her, and I knew she was leaving so I thought—I thought if I sang to her she’d stay, that if I did that one thing she wouldn’t leave us, but she did. She did.”  
Stiles’ voice breaks and Derek can smell the tears he refuses to shed. “You sing beautifully.”  
It’s a weird thing to say, and not a subtle topic change, but it’s true. When Stiles is just talking his voice is all over the place, sometimes squeaky, sometimes not, but when he was singing it evened out, deepening just a little. It was a voice that gave Derek something to hold onto.  
Stiles mumbles something and turns to his homework. Derek doesn’t leave, just gets comfortable on Stiles’ bed, and it’s actually kind of nice. They’re both silent, and eventually Derek falls asleep. Stiles resist the urge to take blackmail pictures.  
It’s peaceful until Derek whimpers, breaking the silence. Stiles drops his book and turns around and yep, that’s Derek having a nightmare.  
“Derek, buddy, want to wake up now?”  
No response and shaking him doesn’t work either. Stiles sighs and growls, “If this is a set up I’m going to kill you,” before climbing in next to Derek, holding one hand in his and running his other hand through Derek’s hair.  
He starts to sing, and Derek quiets.  
Derek wakes up around the second verse, but stays silent and still, just enjoying the comfort of a hand in his and a hand in his hair.  
After the song finishes there’s silence until Stiles speaks. “Do you often have nightmares?”  
“Yes.”  
“About the fire? And Laura? It’s just you were talking during your hallucinations.” Derek’s silence speaks volumes. “I couldn’t sleep when my mother died, not for a very long time, I kept dreaming of her in hell or something, and that I’d killed her.”  
And sweet Jesus that’s a ridiculously personal thing to share. Stiles hasn’t even told Scott that, though he’s sure the other boy knows.  
Derek squeezes his hand gently, and Stiles just smiles and starts the song again.  
For the first time since the fire, Derek sleeps without dreaming, held by a teenage boy who sang ‘Hallelujah.’

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the song Hallelujah, just love it to death.


End file.
